


Jericho

by needleandspoon



Category: U2
Genre: M/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-25
Updated: 2007-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleandspoon/pseuds/needleandspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono leads Edge down the garden path. Joshua Tree era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jericho

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Joshua Tree challenge on lj. It's also for clandestine269's challenge on my journal, where she gave me the prompts: walls, your and begs, Joshua Tree and Bono/Edge. I managed to hit them all, but I fudged a little on one. Thanks, too, to all the support-O-gals on my flist who cheered me up no end when I was certain I'd never get this finished. You rock.

They were at it again.

The raised voices in the other room peaked with a loud ' _fuck you!_ ' then a door slammed and Bono stalked in with plaster dust in his hair. Again. Danesmoate was a glorious old barn of a place and an amazing place to record, but Edge sometimes wondered if it was going to survive this particular whirlwind.

"Trying to bring down the walls without any trumpets are we?" Edge asked mildly.

"Don't you start too," Bono shot back.

"It's going well in there, then?" Edge asked mildly, pretending a fair bit more concentration on the melody he was picking out than it actually warranted.

"Yeah, fucking brilliant."

Edge rolled his eyes and kept playing. He knew better than just about anyone that there was nothing to be gained by getting between Larry and Bono when they were butting heads. They always made it up before long; it was just their way.

Bono threw himself into a chair by the sound desk and sat there glowering. He was more than averagely pissed off; Edge could see it in his white-knuckled fists, the set of his stubborn jaw, and the way he sat, oddly still and silent by the row of amps. His shuttered eyes were fixed on the strings of Edge's guitar and if looks could actually kill, his poor Tele would be a pile of ashes by now.

"Fucking stubborn bastard," Bono muttered.

Edge refrained from asking which one. Instead, he shifted into the chorus, letting go until the music rang around the huge, echoey room. Edge found himself getting lost in it, exhilarated, caught up in the wonder of finding something that made sense, something good, satisfying. It was dreamy and a little dark, a long way from finished, but there was definitely something in it. He almost didn't notice when Anton drifted in and out, snapping a few shots and disappearing again without a word. Smart man.

Slowly, bit by bit, the tension in Bono eased; Edge could feel it across the distance between them. He kept playing, changed the key, shifted the tempo down a notch, slurring the progressions until it was something warmer, a sultry little melody line that tingled at the base of his spine. Bono lost the closed-off look from his eyes and met Edge's at last.

And held.

Edge played it out 'til the end, unable to look anywhere but into Bono's eyes. Even when he had to look away to rest his guitar down against the desk he imagined he could still feel the warmth of the gaze on his skin. And yet, when Bono finally spoke to him, Edge was still startled. When had he come so close anyway?

"Come on," Bono said with something unreadable in his expression. "I need to look at something besides these four walls. And so do you. Come for a walk."

"A walk," Edge repeated with a flicker of a sceptical eyebrow.

"I know you walk, The Edge. I've seen you do it many times. Come on…."

Edge surrendered, as if he hadn't been going to all along, and followed Bono out into the garden.

*

The shadows were already long and Dublin Bay was a far-off slice of glittering steel glinting through the trees in front of them as they walked side by side away from the house and down the hill. The wind coming in off the water was cold and tasted like the ocean. Edge watched Bono lick it from his lips and shivered. The cold seemed a little further away.

Maybe half a mile away there was a ruin, the remains of some old tower or something reduced to mostly rubble. Edge steered them towards it. Close by the tower, a little stream snaked through the overgrown wood. They hadn't been down here before. Tall trees shadowed one side of the ruin, but as they walked around the leeward side, Edge could feel the warmth of trapped sunlight. He turned his face up to it. When he looked over at Bono, he was doing the same.

Something caught in Edge's chest and he had to look away, shading his eyes against the glare as he pretended fascination with the top of the crumbling tower.

When he looked back down again Bono was making himself comfortable on the ground next to the tower. Bono squinted up at him with narrowed blue eyes, the look on his face so utterly obvious that they might as well have been talking. Edge couldn't help smiling back. He laughed a little too, but it was mostly at himself.

Rocks shifted beneath his feet as he stepped nearer the wall to sit with his back up against it, his shoulder pressed to Bono's. Warmth leached out into him.

"Brian'll be wondering where we've got to," Edge said into the silence.

Bono snorted. "Brian's got his hands full with Larry and that bloody drum line right now. He might notice we're not there maybe sometime tomorrow. Maybe."

"Trust me, B, everyone notices when you're not there." Edge paused for effect. "What with the quiet and all." Yeah, it was a jibe, but it was a gentle one for all that.

"Being quiet now, aren't I?" Bono's hand found Edge's and wrapped around it.

"I noticed that." Edge curled his fingers and threaded them between Bono's. "Everything okay?" He turned to look at him, reading the shadows in his blue eyes.

Bono shook his head. "Yeah, fine."

It wasn't true, but Edge let it go.

"What do you think happened here?" Bono asked.

It took him a second to realise that Bono was talking about the ruin. "Who knows?" Edge said, just over the sound of the wind in the trees. "Battering ram? Mob of angry villagers?" He shrugged. "Sometimes things just fall down."

"And yet this bit's still standing."

"Yes, it is." It was also likely they weren't only talking about the tower now.

Bono tilted his head back to look up at it for a moment before meeting Edge's eyes again with a disarmingly, charmingly earnest look. Whatever defences he'd tried to build for himself against the certain ending of this fell away like the fragile things they were.

"You've brought half the ceiling out here with you, y'know." Edge told him, reaching his free hand up to brush it away from Bono's hair. As excuses to touch him went, it was one of his better ones.

Bono closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "It's been so long…. I've missed you," he whispered.

"I haven't gone anywhere," Edge said, squeezing the hand he held. He was still stroking Bono's hair, Edge noticed absently, though the plaster dust was long gone.

Bono opened his eyes. "You know what I mean." He smiled that smile of his, the bright, dangerous one Edge loved, the one that made him feel like there was only the two of them in all the world.

"We knew it'd be different when we got home." A little voice at the back of Edge's mind was laughing raucously at the understatement. He ignored it. "It's not like you can just race me off to your hotel room to 'work on a harmony' anytime you feel like it now."

Bono reached for him, slipping his hand under Edge's ponytail to cup the nape of his neck. "If I'd raced you off to the room every time I'd wanted to, we'd've never left it."

Memories shot through him, months old but still hot and vivid. Hotel rooms, rehearsal rooms and various dark corners, Bono's hands on him, his mouth, his skin…making love with him and lying together afterwards wrapped around each other like bindweed on a gate. He leant into Bono until their foreheads touched, sliding his hands around the breadth of Bono's back, breathing him in.

"Gonna let me kiss you, Reg?" Bono said like a dare.

Edge couldn't help grinning. "It is entirely possible."

"Gonna kiss me back?"

"Not if you don't stop talking."

"I should stop talking then."

"It's a thought."

"Now?"

"Now would be good."

And it was. Finally, finally, Bono was kissing him, their mouths sealed tight and hungry together, all tongue and stubble and low breathy moans. Bono's mouth was every bit as sweet as he remembered. Perfect. It went on a long time; messy and wet and completely ravenous.

Bono worked his hands between them, tugging at Edge's shirt, growling with frustration at finding another and another underneath them. Edge smiled into the kiss and let Bono bare his skin any way he could. He could have helped more, but that would have meant taking his hands off Bono and now that he had them there he wanted to keep them right where they were as long as he could.

Edge pushed at Bono's collar, baring his neck. Bono arched out of the kiss as Edge pulled his shirt open and pushed the coat from his shoulders. Licked his neck from collarbone to the sharp corner of his jaw, starved for the taste of him. Bono's throat was heat and salt against his tongue, vibrating under his lips. The noise he made when Edge bit his ear was sweet and complicated and he did it again just to hear it once more.

With a lunge, Bono had him on his back, going with him, rolling them into the long grass, laughing like boys as they tumbled over each other. Edge lost his beret and the tie from his ponytail along the way, as well as most of his remaining inhibitions. Smiling up into Bono's laughing face, he couldn't help pulling him down to kiss him again. Never, he was never going to have enough of this, but while it was his, God, he was going to have everything he could. He slipped his hands down to Bono's arse to press him closer.

Bono ran sharp kisses down the length of Edge's jaw to his mouth. "Missed you. Missed _this_ so much."

"I missed you too," Edge confessed against Bono's lips. God help him, it was true.

Bono buried his head in the crook of Edge's shoulder, kissed his neck just once. "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind about us." There was the smallest crack in Bono's voice.

"Crazy man," Edge told him as if it meant nothing at all. "You're not getting rid of me that easily…."

" _Fuck _, Edge," Bono breathed between their mouths. "I want you."__

Then Bono was slipping off him a little, one hand going straight to Edge's cock, the touch firm and sure. Edge couldn't help thrusting up into it while he matched the touch with one of his own.

Bono panted against his ear. "Please." Bono unzipped Edge's jeans and wrapped his hand around him, hot and strong. "Please, Edge," he begged. "Need your hands on me."

The zipper stuck for a panicked second, then gave. Edge eased it down while Bono tried very hard to send him mad with long strokes of his curled fist. Then Bono's cock was surging into his hand and they were wedged up close, face to face on their sides, fingers linked around hard, slick flesh pressed close. Edge hooked one leg over Bono's hips just to get closer to him.

"God, Edge. You make me so fucking hot," Bono gasped between kisses.

"Faster?"

"Oh yeah."

And Edge couldn't get enough of Bono's mouth; he strained closer, making needy, greedy noises as they devoured each other. It was awkward and too fast and there was grass in his ear and fuck, if it wasn't perfect then it was a damned good try.

Heat was consuming him, burning down his spine to settle in his cock; he was shaking with it, sweating, crying out into Bono's mouth as the force of his thrusts pushed him onto his back with Bono's solid, delicious weight covering him until he couldn't stand it a second longer, couldn't stop, couldn't do anything but let it all out in choked, arching, stuttering, fucking glorious release.

He could just keep enough of himself to hold on while Bono finished against him, frantic, baring his beautiful throat with a sound like surrender then turning sweetly, oddly pliant in his arms while they both gasped for breath enough to move.

*

Afterwards, they lay together, zipped but still rumpled, side by side and heads each pillowed on one folded arm, accidentally mirroring one another as they often did. Edge was watching the sky through the branches of a tree. It was getting late, afternoon melting into twilight and getting cold. He wasn't going anywhere.

"You okay?" Bono asked, a new, almost uncertain note in his voice.

Edge reached out and found Bono's hand without looking for it. "I'm fine," he said as their hands touched.

"I need to tell you something, Edge, and I'll probably fuck it up, so just bear with me for a second, okay? I've got to say this." He was quiet for a moment and Edge lifted his head to look at him, but Bono had his forearm over his eyes and there was nothing to see. As soon as Edge had his head back on the ground, Bono started up again. "It's probably selfish -- no, it's definitely selfish, no doubt about it -- me wanting you like this," Edge heard a waver, but Bono ploughed on, "but I can't help it. I need you, Edge. I can't go back to the way things were."

"I love you, you know," Edge said quietly, his eyes on the clouds gathering on the horizon. Distance wasn't always a bad thing. Easier by far to say these things to him without looking. "I do."

"I know," Bono said, squeezing the hand he held. "I love you too."

A long silence then, and Edge watched the far-off clouds darken and coalesce with a kind of strange melancholy settling into him, equal parts bitter and sweet. "Rain's coming," he said.

"But not yet," Bono answered, rolling into his arms and laying his head on Edge's shoulder.

"No," Edge said. "Not yet."

 

the end


End file.
